


Preparation

by explodingnebulae



Series: Vampire!Agatha [6]
Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Light Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/pseuds/explodingnebulae
Summary: “And what use would I have for a bride when the perfect wife stands so beautifully before me?” he hummed before placing another punishing kiss to her neck. “If you’re to go out again tonight, you need to settle your nerves. Use me.”Another condition is added to their ever growing list of tasks.
Relationships: Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing
Series: Vampire!Agatha [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723690
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Preparation

**Author's Note:**

> HI!!! Sorry for taking forever. Have an interim smut chapter because I am filth and wanted to give y'all something tasty. I have zero shame. I promise there will be heavy plot in part 7.

Agatha closed her journal with a sense of finality, a sigh leaving her lips as she slumped further into her chair. She brought a hand to her head, rubbing her temples in small, repetitive circles. Hunger was burning into her, impatience that she hadn’t known for years, and she knew it was his influence. The thirst for competition, for conquest, for him, manifested in the form of baser desires. 

When she was human, it was the form of destruction, for finality. The last light flickering out of a man who had lived for too long. A devil banished back to Hell and her faith was restored if from vanity alone. Her baser purpose had been served, but her intellectual mind had been stimulated as well. Dracula had crawled into the darkest parts of her and pulled every string he could. He tightened his claws around curiosity and purpose, and pulled relentlessly at them, heightening every part of her. 

And that’s why she chose to drink on her first night. That’s why they fucked like feral dogs in heat. That’s why she drank from his vein and took his promise with fervor. Her curiosity was driven entirely by him. Her life’s work was in her hands and she could not dare to part with that, with him. 

Now, her baser instinct was to feed, to find flesh and tear it apart. Destructive to the point of unspeakable. No resolution in the finality of the lives she takes. Not in Mathieu de la Fontaine, not in Anna Sparelli, and certainly not the others in which she had imbibed. They had all died without purpose, without reason beyond her own hunger. It sickened her to her core, but she could not resist the pull regardless of her efforts. 

The sound of the latch unhitching behind her went unnoticed as her thoughts consumed her mind, too loud to ignore. Nor had she heard the steps approaching her with such lightness, one should question if his feet had ever touched the ground. 

Only when his hand was at her shoulder did she take note of him, shooting upright, and tensed under him. Her body was rigid in the chair, not breathing, not moving.

“Beast,” she spat as a curse. Admittedly, she was relieved for his intrusion, regardless of what it would bring. He could not know that. “Have you no respect for privacy?” 

“A husband and wife should never have secrets, Agatha,” he toyed back. She could almost see the coy grin crawling along his lips as he placed far too much emphasis on  _ husband and wife _ . “I’m hungry and I want you to join me for a proper dinner. You said it yourself that you wanted to study me. This is your opportunity.”

Dracula took a step back so she could rise and face him, as if knowing she would want to size him up somehow.

She stood and turned around, the palms of her hands resting easily on the desk. A decisive action, naturally. He could not be faced on uneven terrain, the battlefield had to be plain and they had to know the other as a true contender. 

She would hate to disappoint. 

“I have seen you feast, Count,” she started dismissively. “And it is no sight to behold. You feed as a wanton beast.”

“I’m not the one who tore a still-beating heart from a girl’s chest, Agatha.” His return was curt and without emotion. Part of her was wounded, another was understanding and conceded to the truth of his words. 

“A result of your hunger. You said so yourself.” That did not mean she was going to concede to him.

Dracula smiled as he took a calculated step nearer to her. Her breath caught when he brought his hand to caress her face. His grin spread wider before he recomposed himself. “I didn’t make a mess of you, did I?”

She gave a breath and pushed herself from the desk, standing before him plainly as she considered his proposal. He had taken the greatest of care when he had fed from her and by Jonathan Harker’s own account, Dracula hadn’t marked him beyond his neck. His actions on the  _ Demeter  _ and in the convent seemed to have been for theatrics. Of course. He had to be the center of attention, even in murder.

“Well?” 

“I will accompany you under the condition that no more lives are lost tonight,” Agatha sighed and stepped from his hold. So much for a night to collect herself. 

She walked into her bedroom and moved to her closet opposite the bed, not bothering to turn the light on. As she searched for something to wear, Agatha could feel his eyes on her from the doorway. 

“Either come in or go downstairs. It’s impolite to lurk, despite it being one of your habits,” she huffed and immediately felt him press against her. A gasp sounded from her lips as he held her close to him, a hand around her abdomen while the other held at her throat. 

“I didn’t say right now, Agatha. While I am most definitely starving, I do have other appetites that need tending,” he growled in her ear. “I know you’re not wearing undergarments.” 

She smiled and pried herself easily from his hold, despite the rush of heat that spilled in her core. How he had looked earlier, hair slicked, half-erect, in nothing more than a towel, played in her mind and she bit at her lip as she shoved the memory into the recesses of her mind. 

“Perhaps not. But you said that this was my opportunity and so you shall feed, Count Dracula, and I shall observe you. No deaths. No killing. No brides,” she instructed as she pulled the nightdress from her body, leaving her nude before him. 

Agatha grabbed a simple gown that she could easily pull over her frame, but found herself clutching at the fabric when he pressed a hard kiss to her shoulder. He had his fingers at her breast and teased the nipple to hardness, turning the supple flesh between his thumb and index.

“And what use would I have for a bride when the perfect wife stands so beautifully before me?” he hummed before placing another punishing kiss to her neck. “If you’re to go out again tonight, you need to settle your nerves. Use me.” 

The dress fell from her hand to the floor below as she turned around. His reluctant fingers pulled at her nipple as he released it and drew a soft whine from her. When she looked up at him, she figured out what he was doing. His current offer was not entirely for his own pleasure. She knew that sex was a natural stress reliever, human or vampire, and he was offering himself as way for her to relax. 

“Then I want you to listen to me,” she started as she searched his mind for any ulterior motive. Nothing. “Undress.” 

“As you wish, Countess,” he purred, the term causing her core to ache. She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, her inner lip caught between her teeth as he exposed his furred chest to her. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit at her lip to keep her smug grin from spreading. His pants came off just as quickly and he stood naked and half erect before her, all for her. 

“Kneel.”

He descended to both knees, never breaking eye contact with her, amusement in his gaze but obedience in his movements. “Am I to pray?” 

“With your tongue,” she entreated as she moved forward, her thighs on either side of his face as he lifted her in the air. Agatha curled forward, fingers twisting into the sheets. The grip of her thighs should have broken his neck as he lapped mercilessly between her folds. He worked her over with tongue and teeth, drinking her in as she came, once, twice, thrice… A second and an eternity meshed as one as ceaseless waves of pleasure crashed over her. 

Only when her legs were shaking and her clit ached did he stop, kissing the oversensitive skin of her thighs as he held to her. Dracula lifted her, turned her, and set her on the bed. She spread her legs, releasing him, and looked up when he loomed over her. 

“Might I make a suggestion?” His lips were glistening in the darkness of the room and as she glanced down between them, she saw his cock hard and ready. Thoughts heady with new lust, no longer on the thirst for blood, Agatha returned her gaze to him.

“You may.”

A depraved grin spread on his face before he leaned down and claimed her lips in a painfully slow kiss. Her mouth opened under his kiss, allowing him entrance that he had yet to ask for, and delighted in the way his tongue slipped easily along her own. A growl sounded in his chest, primal, lascivious, his intent clear as he pulled away.

“I think a lesson in restraint is needed,” he purred wickedly as he sank off the bed.

Agatha watched as he moved to the window, cock bouncing tightly against his abdomen as he paused, taking in the sight of the neighborhood around them. If anyone were to look into her bedroom window at that moment, they would be greeted by the furred chest and quite noticeable erection of an unabashed four hundred and fifty year old vampire. 

“Is that supposed to be a joke? Restraint, coming from you?” she quipped as she watched him remove the tiebacks from the curtains, the long ropes in his hands quieting her defiant nature and raising curiosity. The room fell into complete darkness, but she watched as he tested the binding of the threads as though it were the middle of the day. “And what do you plan on doing with those?” 

“Ah, my dear, I think you are quite aware of what I’m going to be doing with these.”

He crossed over to her, grabbed at her wrist, knelt beside the bed, and quickly tied it to the post that supported her headboard. Dracula repeated the process with her other wrist and stood with a very satisfied expression crossing his face. 

“Beautiful. Absolutely marvelous,” he breathed softly, the heat of his arousal drowning his words. “I much prefer rope around you like this.”

“Keep that in mind the next time you feel it necessary to hang me,” Agatha shot back as she flexed her fingers and wrists against the bindings. She knew she could easily break free if she truly wanted to, but was content to leave them. “So this is your suggestion? To tie me up and have your way with me?”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times in disapproval. “I’ve told you before, Agatha. I have no interest in claiming you when you don’t want me to. I’m only giving you what you need. A countess must know when to contain herself.” 

She shifted as best she could, lifting her head as his weight settled onto the mattress at her feet, and looked questioningly at him. What could she possibly need that involved tying her to a mattress and fucking her?

“A literal interpretation of restraint is underwhelming, don’t you think? Fifty years of rest and you’ve come out no cleverer,” she maintained doing little to mask her amusement as his smirk faded into feigned offense. “You’ll have to do better than that, Count.”

“Restraining you was only the start. Did you think I’d be so mundane?” he asked rhetorically and stood once more. She watched as he moved to the door. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

In the solitary darkness of her bedroom, Agatha pondered his intentions. Count Dracula was known for playing games, at least with her, to sate his amusement and endless curiosity. He made it a point to always raise the stakes with her. The bargaining for Mina Murray’s life, playing chess in her dreams, having her strung up by the neck before crew and passengers, allowing her to drink from his vein, claiming her as his wife before they ever reached shore…

The Count did anything to give himself an edge over her and yet he stumbled every time. He fell victim to her unintended wiles and indulged in her with human fervor, a tether to reality that neither of them knew he could have. His reverence for her was Agatha’s undoing and together they arrived at the same crossroads each time they came together. The warmth she found in his chilling embrace could not be replicated by anything known to her; not blood, not her research, and certainly not the church.

Whatever he had waiting in the wings, she would devise a way to be prepared to push against him simply because she knew he enjoyed the competition. Agatha was starting to understand him more than she thought she would ever have the chance to. She had access to his entire life if she wished to recall it, but she preferred to learn through experience. The legwork required to know a vampire could take a lifetime, and lucky for her, she had several at her disposal.

Despite her wandering mind, Agatha caught the sound of him on the staircase and turned her head to catch him as he walked into the bedroom. He had two glasses in one hand, the smell of blood taking over her interest in his presence. She pulled against the restraints as her comfort diminished. Her hunger, while not intolerable, returned from the shadowy recesses of her mind. 

“Ah-ah,” he sounded and approached her, setting one the glasses on the nightstand beside them. He raised his glass to his lips and took a slow sip before the glass joined hers on the small table. “This is for later. First, you have to prove that you can behave.”

Agatha scoffed indignantly and turned her head from him. She trained her sights on the open closet in front of her and crossed her legs tightly together. If he thought blood from a bag was enough to ruin her resolve, he was mistaken. 

“I thought you were at my disposal. It seems you can’t stand staying out of the spotlight for a night. A narcissist even in privacy.” 

“No, I said I was going to give you what you needed. If you don’t want it, then I can stop,” he explained and lifted his other hand to reveal the longer tie-backs from the living area windows. Dracula moved to the foot of the bed and sighed at her closed legs. “It’s up to you, of course. I am a man of my word, Agatha, and if you don’t want to continue, all you have to do is say. Think of it as preparation for dinner.”

“Foreplay is hardly meal preparation,” she returned as he tugged at her ankle. Agatha complied and separated her legs, spreading out for him once again. He muttered his thanks and made quick work of fully restraining her. She felt as though she was going to be drawn and quartered, the taut pressure overtaking her body. “What exactly is it that I need?”

He knelt before her on the bed, stretched upwards, and gently grasped her hips. His breath was hot against the slick, glistening wetness of her entrance; his shallow pants making clear his desire. Dracula’s teeth grazed along her inner thigh, the jagged edges pricking the skin as he trailed down to her knee. One of his hands left her hips as he placed a kiss to the top of her thigh. Agatha drew in a breath when his middle finger traced around her clit, still sore from his mouth, and easily sank into her warmth.

“You need to listen to others,” he dictated, being sure to necessitate ‘ _ listen’ _ as though she were a pet. 

Agatha began to protest but he curled his digit up inside of her and ran the pad of his finger over her sweet spot. Her breath hitched in response and she tried to move her hand to nestle in his hair. The binding held her firmly in place and she thought about tearing it off. 

“If anyone needs a lesson on social etiquette, it’s you, Count Dracula. Times have changed and you can’t d--”

He plunged another finger into her, caring not for tact or being delicate, and silenced her with a few hard thrusts. The fabric constraints pulled tightly as she twisted and writhed against them. Through heavy-lidded eyes, Agatha caught a grin on his face, smug as he watched her drown in sinful divinity with each of his ministrations. 

“I can’t do what, now, my dear? You’ll have to speak up. I’m afraid I can’t quite hear you,” he taunted as he moved up on the bed, his fingers still working inside of her. Their rhythm slowed and he withdrew one. “The bedroom is no place for etiquette, Countess. Not between a beast in rut and his bitch in heat. Stay quiet, listen to my instructions, and I promise to give you release enough to quell any appetite you may have.” 

She could have spat in his face for calling her a bitch,  _ his bitch _ , but the flames that engulfed her were of a different nature. Agatha’s jaw tightened as she worked it, trying not to betray the heat splintering throughout her body as lightning spreads through the sky. His eyes shone in the dark, glowing like headlights approaching in the dead of night, and he looked down at her with amusement. 

She leaned up to face him, as close as her bindings would allow, and stared him in the eye. “Try again.”

Dracula withdrew his hand from her entrance and gripped her throat, his fingers carefully placed, a habit from a human life long forgotten. A noise between a snarl and a gasp erupted from her as he pushed her back to the pillow beneath her.

“Humor me,” he insisted, his face so close to hers she couldn’t help but strain against his hand to kiss him. He met her halfway, their lips and teeth colliding with a heat she hadn’t known since their first night. When he pulled away he slid his cock along her glistening folds, her entrance contracting at the contact, and Agatha shivered at the sight of him watching her. 

“Stay quiet or I’ll stop. Can you do that for me?” he inquired as he pushed inside of her, a grunt sounding in the thick of his throat as she enveloped his cockhead. 

Agatha reached up and grabbed his shoulder, holding to him as he stretched her further than what his fingers had amounted to. She felt his cock nearly slide out of her as he withdrew his hips before slamming back into her, filling her in an instant. Remembering his words, Agatha made no attempt to withhold the groan that sounded in her throat. 

He withdrew his hand and cock from her completely, kneeling back on the bed, his erection glistening with her juices. She smirked down at him, her dark tresses a mess around her face, and went to pull at one of her restraints. However, Dracula was there to stop her, grabbing at her lower leg with one hand and lifting her at the small of her back with the other.

The pressure of the bindings as she stretched made her twitch, or maybe it was the tip of his erection teasing at her entrance once more when he repositioned himself. 

“Stay. Quiet.”

Agatha pushed her head into the pillow beneath her as he thrust into her, the sound of his skin slapping against hers echoing in the dark with discordant harmony. She bit into her lip, focusing on how his cock seemed to go deeper and deeper with each motion. Her walls grasped at his erection, constricting as her orgasm built just where the tip of his cock touched within her.

When she pierced her own skin from trying to maintain control, Agatha cried out. Unintentionally this time as she was too focused on her release. His hips stuttered to a halt and he pulled out of her, panting as he dropped her back to the mattress below. Her body twitched in protest, her hips grinding upwards for contact, and her eyes snapped open. 

“Defiant to the last, aren’t you? Tsk, tsk, a shame, really. I could feel how close you were,” he shook his head. “Now, what will I do with you? Maybe sate a different appetite, hmm?” 

Before she could reply, he leaned forward and grabbed the full glass, the blood within as steady as his hand. “Just a taste. What do you say?” 

Agatha felt her agitation swell within her and took the opportunity to free her hands while he was occupied. She had allowed him to call her a bitch, let him tease her, let him deny her, but she would accept nothing more. This was her show and she would burn before she let him play ringmaster. As she tugged her legs free, Dracula used his spare hand to hold her steady, placing it between her breasts. 

“I say you’re losing your grip, Count Dracula. Indulging yourself too much in any pleasure you can in the moment. You’ve said so yourself,” Agatha returned sharply, her hand covering his around the glass, careful not to squeeze lest it break. 

“I haven’t had nearly enough of you for it to be too much, Agatha.” He dipped his finger into the glass and held it in front of her, an invitation, a truce, a promise. 

She took his finger into her mouth, carefully sucking at it, and pushed him onto the mattress. The contents of the glass came spilling out, covering Dracula in blood from head to chest. A smirk ran the length of her lips as she shifted so she was seated on his abdomen. Being covered in blood suited him, befitting the beast he was. 

She lifted her hips into the air, grabbed his cock, and guided it inside of her as she rolled her hips downward. Slowly, she took him inch by inch, humming at the sensation of being filled again. Her eyes never left his as she rolled her hips again, taking him to the hilt and stifling a groan when his cock pressed so far into her. 

Agatha bent down as she found a rhythm and traced her tongue along his collarbone, indulging in the taste of blood while his claws dug into her hips as he steadied her. The glass tumbled to the floor, ringing clear as it shattered against the hardwood below. At last, control had returned to her.

Her fingers twisted into his ebony hair as his hips bucked upward to meet her, thrusting deeper into her, evoking a moan that splayed across his neck. Teeth like razors, she scraped against his flesh, tasted the human blood there, was overwhelmed by the scent of him and that which he was covered in. 

With his hands planted firmly at her hips, he rolled them, placing Agatha back onto the mattress. She held to him as he chased her orgasm, finding each spot to hit by every breath and noise she would make. Agatha found purchase at his back, dug into his shoulder blades, as her back arched against him, her hips rocking as he fucked into her.

With breath stolen, she gasped as Dracula thrust hard against her, pushing her over the proverbial edge and sending her into glorious oblivion. He stilled himself inside of her as she came around him, holding to him and spewing curses as though they were prayer. She felt him smile against her cheek as he started again but chose to indulge the sensation between her legs rather than the one in her chest. Her walls clenched his cock, squeezing it as he pumped into her until his seed shot inside of her. Dracula gave a few extra soft thrusts for good measure before he pulled out of her.

He fell to the bed beside her, chest rising and falling as though the exertion had some effect on him. Admittedly, she found herself breathless in the best of ways. No matter how she looked at the situation, there was only one conclusion she could draw. Perhaps, Count Dracula could control himself, if only under certain conditions. Perhaps that condition was her. 

“Your hypocrisy of my egoism is damning, Agatha. I simply enjoy you,” he stated plainly, although the lie was transparent. He was saying such things for posterity’s sake.

Even saying that he simply enjoyed her was an understatement. The way the product of their sex spilled out of her as she shifted on the mattress was evidence enough. The way he looked at her now, rolled onto his side, clearly fighting the urge to place his hand at her cheek… 

There was something more behind his eyes and she knew it was reflected in her own, but the rules of their game had never allowed for such things. They would play for a little longer. 

“Was this not a way to sate certain hungers so you could show me how you feed in a controlled environment?” she inquired pointedly and turned towards him, ignoring the now uncomfortable slickness between her legs. “You said it was for my benefit, yet you seem just as satisfied.”

“I’ve satisfied you?” His grin could not have been wider or more wicked than it was in that moment as he leaned in and brushed his nose against hers.

Although she reactively returned the gesture, she shook her head dismissively immediately afterwards. “Do not get sidetracked, Count. We have a task to complete.”

A disapproving huff was his response as he sat up. “At least you’ll learn something about being a vampire tonight.”


End file.
